After returning from the Transfiguration professor's office, Hoffa barely slept that night.
The comforting harbor he had known felt shattered, as if someone had overturned the table and torn off the bandage over a healed wound, forcing him to confront the lurking dangers of the wizarding world.
Countless suppressed questions erupted in his mind, leaving him unable to calm himself.
What was the Forbidden Library? Who was the Half-Blood King? What were his true intentions?
Hoffa had no answers. It felt as though everything he'd experienced was connected by an invisible thread, guiding him toward an unknown fate.
The next morning at breakfast, while the Great Hall buzzed with speculation, Hoffa remained silent, avoiding conversation with anyone.
Thanks to the incident involving Tom Riddle's shooting, Hoffa's new role as the Transfiguration assistant didn't attract any attention—except from his two close friends, who were deeply concerned.
Astronomy Class in the Afternoon
While the trio was peering through a telescope, Miranda asked in a hushed tone, "Hoffa, are you really going to help the Soviet Minister of Magic's daughter find the Forbidden Library?"
Hoffa aimed the telescope at Mars, speaking calmly. "I'm not helping her. I'm helping myself."
Aglaia handed Hoffa a piece of parchment and said, "I have a bad feeling about this library. Whoever injured Tom Riddle clearly isn't afraid of you going after them."
Hoffa sketched two star charts onto the parchment with a quill and replied, "Weren't you curious about the library before?"
"Curious, yes."
Aglaia glanced around, then pushed the telescope aside and lowered her voice. "Hoffa, I've been researching Hogwarts' history, and I've come across something very strange."
"What is it?"
"Do you know who Hogwarts' first headmaster was?"
Hoffa froze, the quill in his hand pausing mid-air, leaving a blot of ink on the parchment.
"The first headmaster?"
Hoffa wracked his brain but couldn't recall any such figure. He turned to Miranda. "Do you know who the first headmaster was?"
Miranda thought for a long while and shook her head.
"Strange. I've never heard of this person," she said.
Aglaia leaned closer and whispered, "The Forbidden Library was his idea. He was also one of its key keepers. But after all my research, I found that his identity, his name, and everything about him have disappeared—there's no record of him at all."
"Silence!"
A sharp voice rang out.
Hoffa turned to see the Astronomy professor, Europa, seated at the highest point of the classroom beneath a massive telescope. She frowned and barked, "Use your eyes and your minds to observe the stars, not your mouths!"
Professor Europa, a firm advocate of quiet, was a fifty-something woman resembling a wrinkled old sloth, perpetually hunched over a telescope. Her classes focused solely on observation and recording, with no tolerance for verbal communication.
The trio fell silent.
After some time, once Professor Europa's attention had shifted, Aglaia whispered, "Hoffa, every other headmaster in Hogwarts history is well-documented—every single one, except the first. It doesn't add up. That Forbidden Library has to be more than it seems."
Professor Europa, now visibly annoyed, abandoned her telescope and descended a ladder with deliberate slowness. She shuffled over to the trio, hands on her hips, glaring at their star charts.
But no matter what Aglaia said, Hoffa had already made up his mind.
Dusk
After finishing his classes for the day, Hoffa arrived punctually at the entrance to the Hogwarts Library.
Osyvia was seated on a bench outside the library. Her hair was styled in a classical bun, her hands rested flat on her knees, and her gaze was fixed forward, giving her the appearance of a waiting automaton.
When Hoffa approached, she stood up without a word and led the way. The two walked single file into the library's Restricted Section.
As soon as they entered, the hunchbacked librarian emerged. He likely hadn't recognized Osyvia and assumed she was another student sneaking into the Restricted Section.
Osyvia strode forward without acknowledging him.
"Hey, stop! What are you doing here?" the librarian bellowed.
"Looking for something. Please ensure no one else enters this area," Osyvia said curtly.
The librarian recoiled like a startled cat, stepping back as he realized she was Hogwarts' new Transfiguration professor.
"Of course, Professor," he muttered begrudgingly before retreating.
As the librarian shuffled away, Hoffa remarked dryly, "Don't tell me this is the legendary Forbidden Library."
"Of course not," Osyvia replied. "This library was built in 1009 and now holds barely a tenth of the knowledge it once did.
"Before this, there was another library—one where ancient Hogwarts students studied. That's where we're headed."
They descended to the bottom of the Restricted Section.
Here, there were no books or people—just gray brick walls, a few brooms, and a storage room.
Yet, within the range of Hoffa's mental perception, he sensed faint, incomprehensible magical energy emanating from the surroundings.
He looked at Osyvia, unsure of what she was planning.
Osyvia walked to a corner, drew her wand, and tapped it against the wall. Muttering an incantation under her breath, she reached out and mimed pulling something.
With the groaning sound of rusty metal, a dusty mirror materialized out of thin air.
Dragging the mirror, she placed it before Hoffa. The mirror was covered in cobwebs, resembling the melted cheese on a pizza.
She repeated the process at another corner, pulling out a second mirror.
The two mirrors fused into one, though they were so grimy that Hoffa couldn't even see his reflection.
Osyvia waved her wand.
"Pristine."
The dust flew off in a flurry, the cobwebs dissipating like scorched ice.
The mirror gleamed, now spotless and bright.
In the bright mirror, Hoffa saw himself, Ossivia, the rows of bookshelves in the restricted section behind them, and even Hogwarts students reading by the shelves in the distance.
"What are you doing?" Hoffa asked. "Did you bring me to the library just to look at myself in a mirror?"
"What you're seeing is the real world," Ossivia said enigmatically.
Then, without warning, she grabbed Hoffa by the shoulders and turned him around.
At that moment, Hoffa was stunned.
The place where they had been moments ago had completely vanished.
There were no students reading, no tidy benches, and no rows of bookshelves.
Now, he was standing in a vast, dusty, and empty hall. White-gray cobwebs hung everywhere, the walls were crumbling, and the arched ceiling bore carvings of the four Hogwarts house animals—snake, eagle, lion, and badger.
High above, several broken glass windows let in faint rays of autumn sunlight. The beams streamed through the ancient blinds, creating scattered Tyndall-like light patterns in the air.
"This is the Mirror World," Ossivia explained. "An ancient wizard's unique magic."
Hoffa stood speechless for a long time, stunned. When he turned back, he could still see the mirror behind him, reflecting the students, the bookshelves, and the restricted section of the library. But now, he and Ossivia were missing from the reflection. Somehow, they had left the original library.
With a flick of her wand, Ossivia caused the mirror to split in two and move to either side. The real-world scene in the mirror slowly faded.
"A thousand years ago, this was once the most vibrant restricted library in all of Europe—a magical haven sought after by countless wizards.
"But over time, through countless wars and deaths, the founders of the three major wizarding schools decided to destroy most of the dangerous ancient magic in Durmstrang, on the frigid Siberian plains. The remnants were sealed away."
Her voice echoed through the vast, ancient hall.
"As you can see," Ossivia added, "what's left here is nothing but ruins."
Hoffa's jaw dropped. He began walking slowly around the space, leaving footprints in the thick dust underfoot.
It was clear—this place was entirely abandoned. Except for the cobwebs, a few remaining desks, and broken bookshelves, there was nothing.
Not a single book. Not even a scrap of paper.
Only a few fallen, massive metal lampstands hinted at the grandeur this place once held.
"There's nothing here. Why did you bring me here?" Hoffa asked.
"This is the closest I could find to the library's remnants," Ossivia replied. "If possible, I want to see if there are any clues here."
Following her gaze, Hoffa noticed, at the far end of the hall, several collapsed bookshelves surrounding a broken humanoid statue. The statue was massive, over ten meters tall, but only half of it remained. Its two legs still stood on a stone pedestal, as if the statue had been sliced cleanly in half, with the missing portion nowhere in sight.
Hoffa frowned.
For some reason, the scene struck him as odd.
For instance, the broken statue in the distance seemed very close—only about fifty meters away. Yet Hoffa felt it was much farther than that. Not only that, but the entire scene seemed to ripple strangely.
It was as if he and the statue were separated by an invisible water curtain.
He reached out, trying to part the unseen barrier. But Ossivia stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Let me," she said.
She drew her wand and tapped the hazy space before them.
At that moment, it was as though she had touched the surface of a calm pond. A surge of ancient magical power rippled outward violently.
The surroundings began to change. Starting from the point where Ossivia's wand touched, intense ripples spread in all directions.
Dust vanished, cobwebs dissolved, tables and chairs were restored, and the broken, rusted lampstands flew back into place overhead, shining brightly.
Pages of books fluttered in the air, and shadowy figures began to appear, as though time itself was reversing at high speed. Finally, even the setting sun's fading rays through the broken windows transformed into brilliant morning light.
In just over ten seconds, the dusty, decrepit hall had become a magnificent library hall, filled with books.
Wizards dressed in ancient linen robes wandered back and forth. At the base of the colossal statue, two wizards with bare arms appeared to be in a heated argument.
Hoffa was utterly speechless. Everything he saw was beyond his comprehension.
"What… what is this?" he stammered.
"Ancient illusion magic," Ossivia explained. "These are fragments of memories that have been stripped away—a protective spell left behind by ancient wizards."
She continued, "Over a thousand years ago, during the constant wars among wizards, secret places like this could not be freely accessed. Unauthorized intrusions were met with protective spells that caused harm or expulsion.
"But what you see here isn't real. The reality is still the ruins you just saw. These are merely remnants of the hall's protective magic."
"My God…" Hoffa muttered, still reeling from shock. He slowly turned his head. "So… what now? Do we just walk over there?"
(End of Chapter)
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